Love is
by WriterK83
Summary: Added Conclusion...Prequel to Guy Gets Girl, this story depicts the major event referenced in the original story. TIVA. Warning for mentions of rape.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys, this is the sequel to Guy Gets Girl. While this story below was obviously written second, it actually depicts events that happened prior to the scenes in Guy Gets Girl. You can read them in any order, though this might be better/more suspenseful if read first. **

**And, whoever replies gets an ADVANCE on the next chapter at least 24 hours prior to posting. This means you get a large portion – with some of the best parts – before everyone else. The next part will probably go up Wednesday or Thursday. **

**And yes, I stole this fabulous idea from another author – so THANKS! **

**And I don't just want replies for replies sake – so it needs to be some kind of feedback – something you liked, didn't like, want to see, general feelings about the storyline, characters etc. Short and sweet is fine **

**You'll notice that I'll likely try this out with more of my stories moving forward, depending on how this little thank you goes!**

…**..**

Tony's POV

_Do you know what it's like to love someone that you can't be with? _

_This is what it's like. _

_You know when she's upset, hurting, mad, angry, worried – you get the picture. Without words you just…know. _

_And it kills you. _

_You want to be with her – there for her – offer a shoulder or ear or warm arms or…lips. _

_But aside from the lips part, and maybe the warm arms, you don't know what's crossing the line. You don't really know how much to push when she says no the first and then second time. _

_You don't know if she might be in another's arms that night._

_It's all you can think about and it kills you – pain pulses deeper than any punch, bullet wound. _

_This is love. _

…..

Tony wanted to punch him till he screamed like a little girl.

Partly because the ex-marine was running a prostitution ring with underage girls. Whoring them out to sick bastards who got off on child rape.

He wanted to empty a round into his chest. Pull off his fingernails one by one. But it was kind of hard to do so through a television monitor.

Tony shifted uncomfortably in the darkened van. Eyes trained on the screen. "C'mon," he hissed, as Ziva turned her head, and the ex-marine on the monitor disappeared from view.

"Relax, DiNozzo." An annoyed Gibbs spoke, taking a long, satisfying gulp from his now empty coffee cup. "She'll get it."

Tony slowly clenched and unclenched his right fist. His punching fist.

The other reason Tony wanted to punch him? For the past week Ziva had been undercover, forming a….relationship with this ex-marine. Kyle Steward.

They had gone to dinner – twice – and a movie, a hike at Great Falls, and an old Civil War battlefield. Tonight they were at a bar.

Steward knew the cops were onto him, which meant that the girls – 15 by Gibbs' estimate – were running out of time. He had been slowly killing them off, along with clientele, but there was a stash of girls missing. The bastard simply couldn't be taken down until NCIS knew the location of – and could protect – those missing girls.

They had followed him, bugged him, traced every call and searched every building he visited.

Nothing.

Ziva getting the location out of him was their last hope.

…..

Ziva's POV

_Do you know what it is like to be Mossad? _

_To be loyal and stoic and deadly and scary and tough? To know that at any moment you might give your life for something you are not so sure you believe in, anymore? _

_It is knowing how to kill a man five times stronger than you with any tool at hand. It is the ability to withstand any form of torture, delivering it back twice as painful. _

_It is the skill to get out of any situation. Knowing that your whole team relies on you to do so. _

_It is separating emotions. It is never falling in love. _

_Do you know what it is like to break this code by which you swore? _

…

It sifted through the bullpen. Hot, thick, suffocating.

They were this close to nailing the bastard. The team was on edge. Tense.

"I think he knows, Gibbs," Ziva said quietly, as she adjusted her barrette – complete with a hidden camera – and ran fingers through wild, curly hair.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to pull out?"

Ziva unclipped her badge, gun, and without hesitation placed them in her desk drawer. She slung the black purse that Abby had made for her, complete with fake ID and lip gloss, over her shoulder.

"He's picking me up at 7."

…

Tony's POV

_Do you know what it's like to watch her leave? With nothing but a visual and sound feed into the darkened van, where computers and weapons and coffee cups and takeout bags and two restless agents sit, waiting?_

_To watch her get into his car? _

_To think of the thousands of things that could go wrong?_

_Do you know what its like to come to the realization that of those things that could go wrong, in three quarters of the situations you probably won't save her? _

…_.._

It was part of Mossad training to formulate new plans of attack as quickly as your target changed positions or moved.

So when Steward picked her up at her apartment – temporary until the assignment was over – and drove to the motel, she went with it.

And when he poured her a gin and tonic – she carefully watched as he opened fresh

bottles and poured each cup – she sipped.

And when he sat on the bed next to her and said, "Sara, you're so fucking pretty," she could only think of the young, now traumatized – or dead – girls, that Steward had probably said the same thing to right before he sold them to the highest bidder.

She knew she would do what she had to.

So she ran a finger down his collared shirt, flicking the top button open to expose a hint of chest hair.

"Kyle, where are you always disappearing off to?"

He drained the last of his drink.

"Disappearing?"

She laughed. "Now, do not get me wrong – the secretive thing, it is….sexy. But I can not reach you for hours at a time and…" She pouted, her fingers now running down the side of his face. "I miss you."

She drained her drink.

And he kissed her.

….

Ziva's POV

_Do you know what it is like to break the code by which you swore? _

_To know that maybe, just maybe, you do not have to be the fearless, tough, ninja Mossad assassin, round the clock? _

_That you can and should and will rely on your team for backup? _

_That maybe, it is ok, to fall in love. _

_You may not realize it, at first. That you are no longer playing by the rules that daddy taught you. _

_But you will know. _

_And you better hope to god that it – that he – was worth it. _

…

Ziva knew that something was wrong. She was growing heavy, tired.

And when she pulled away from the kiss and tried to continue the conversation – she had to find the location of those girls – her words came out jumbled, slurred.

She couldn't even remember her next question. And that's when she knew.

She had missed it. He had drugged her.

He kissed her again and pushed her down onto the motel bedspread.

She threw a punch, a knee, but her movements were slow, clumsy, uncalculated.

He laughed and sucked on her neck, whispering, "Now it's time to have a little fun, sweetheart."

That's when she slammed her now empty glass into his skull. Pushing every fiber within her to fight the toxin pulsing through her blood.

And he punched her in the eye. Tore off her shirt.

That's when her muscles finally gave way, weakened, slack, unresponsive.

When she knew that she could not stop this.

….

Tony's POV

_Do you know what it's like to love someone that you can't be with? _

_You know she can take care of herself. When it comes to facing gunfire, trained fighters, snipers, whatever, she's more capable of you. _

_But when she's down? And there's nothing you can do to take back the damage that's been done? _

_That feeling? That you want to kill? _

_That'd you'd rather be in her place and take the blows and terror and blood and hurt ten times over? _

_That – this - is love. _

…..

**OK, remember the little advance promise **


	2. Author's Note

Hey guys, so I'm so sorry but most of you who replied don't have email addresses, and the portion of the chapter I want to share is too long for a message.

Can you please send me a message or email with your email address? I've already messaged you all, too.

I'll try to figure out a better system b/c I want to do more of this advance stuff in the future and don't want you all to have to publicly post your email address!

THANKS!


	3. Conclusion

A/N: So, this is the conclusion to 'Love is.' ENJOY! I want to write something else to go with this story and 'Guy Gets Girl.' Let me know what you want to see!

And a huge thanks to my faithful reviewers for sticking with it while I tried to figure out how to get you your advance. In the end it worked and I hope you enjoyed it!

_Previously…While undercover, Ziva goes with the suspect – a man she is supposed to be dating - to a motel room. She is drugged. _

…..

Tony's heart quickened as he watched the monitor. He could feel Gibbs tense beside him.

Something wasn't right.

Ziva being lowered onto the bed. Her arm flailing as if she tried to fight, but couldn't.

Steward kissing her.

Steward punching her.

And that's when both men jumped up in the cramped, dirty van.

Ziva was in trouble.

…

_Of the thousand things that could have gone wrong. _

_Something did. _

_Of the thousand endings to this game. _

_Will I save her? _

…_._

She could no longer fight. Not with the poison seeping through her blood, sickening her body, her muscles.

She knew that.

But she also knew that the power of the mind was a strong thing.

She had only one weapon left.

And she willed herself to hold on long enough to use it.

It would not save her. But of the larger mission, the young lives, of the greater good? That battle, she could still win.

Knuckles slammed into her, cool air rushed her stomach. She concentrated everything she had on that one thought.

Prayed that the audio and video recorder, tucked inside her headband, had not been damaged.

And she executed.

"Where are they, Kyle?"

He stopped.

"Who?"

"The girls, Kyle. Where are they?"

He laughed and the sound pierced through the violent, angry layer that had fallen over the room. Yellow teeth flashed as he leaned his head back just a little, howling once again.

And then just as suddenly, he stopped.

"I guess I _will_ have to kill you." He licked his lips. "Eventually."

And kissed her.

She did not struggle against him.

But inside, she fought. To stay focused, to will her body to cooperate long enough to extract the location of the missing girls.

"What are you? A cop?" He asked.

Her silence relaxed him, and she felt his weight crush into her.

"13 left," his voice came at almost a whisper now. "13 young, impressionable girls waiting for me."

_Where, _she tried to speak, but her lips felt clumsy and the words never came.

"I'll kill off a few more. But the rest? We'll go down South. Maybe Florida?"

_Where are they now?_

He began to kiss her again, his excitement revving at the prospect of a new location, new identity. New victims, perhaps.

She felt his hands toy with the buttons on her pants. She knew, it had to be now.

It was the moment you rushed into an abandoned building, ready to give your own life for the chance to defuse a bomb that might destroy evidence.

It was the moment you ran into gunfire to save your partner.

It was the moment you knew that what you are fighting for, it is greater than you.

It was the moment she mustered her last bit of strength and finally, spoke. "You are not smart enough to hide them for long. My friends, perhaps they have already found the girls, by now."

He was not angry but he hit her again.

And laughed.

"I do hope no more of them die, what being crammed into that shipping container at the harbor. It's not nearly as fun when they die on their own."

He leaned close and whispered into her ear. "Not smart enough, huh? Your friends haven't found them yet, sweetie."

And Ziva went limp as she let the drug fully overtake her, her last bit of strength, will, used to identify the location of the girls. He would surely kill her now, but…

Mission complete.

…

_You cannot argue that I was young when I pledged my life to Mossad. You cannot argue that I have been faithful through the years. Sacrificing love, life for the greater good – to protect and serve first my country of Israel, and then that which belongs to the people of the United States. _

_But what some may argue is that I have faltered. _

_That I have allowed myself to love and feel and rely on the support of a team to get the job completed. _

_Perhaps I have. _

_But that is….no longer important. _

_I know that I may die tonight. _

_But if I live, it will be because I relied on, trusted a team. And if I do see the harsh light of tomorrow's morning sun, the overused smirk and likely a day's worth of stubble on Tony's face, I invite those to argue. _

_Say that I've faltered. _

_Because I would like to love. Trust. Him. _

_Unconditionally. _

…

They didn't pause when they kicked in the door. They didn't take time to register the situation before jumping Steward, pulling him off of Ziva.

But the image would forever burn in Tony's mind.

The bastard was on top of her. Her shirt was off. Jeans unbuttoned to reveal the beginnings of black lacy underwear.

And he was punching her repeatedly.

Tony didn't think. Instead of following protocol, handcuffing Steward and reading his rights, Tony snapped.

He didn't register that his fists were flying, striking human flesh with a sickening break, until Gibbs grabbed him by the shirt collar. "Tony." He barked, jerking his head toward Ziva. "Get her out of here."

And that's when Tony slowly turned.

He thought, at first, that she was dead.

So still.

Half naked.

It is the moment you hear of a plane crash that your father was supposed to be on. It is the moment a building explodes that your partner may or may not have been in.

The panic sets deep and it slows time down by 100.

Only to be let out in a rush when you lean your ear close to her face, feel soft breath against your cheek and see her eyelids flutter.

And you see Gibbs watching you, training a gun on the perpetrator who can no longer – is too broken – to be handcuffed.

And you know you better not mess up. Not with her.

You tear off your jacket and cover her; it is too uncomfortable to fix her pants in front of him.

She vomits across the bedspread and you grab her hair and hold her because she is swaying.

And Gibbs is still watching and you can tell he wants to be there at her side, to ask her what happened, because the look on his face is one of plain terror.

What the hell did this bastard do to Ziva?

She is slightly more alert, now, picking up her discarded shirt to wipe her mouth. Bundling your oversized jacket over her bra.

When you help her up off the bed, out of the motel room and down the stairs, you are again scared.

She doesn't refuse your hands on her. In fact, she lets you hold her up.

…

_It is cold in the parking lot. There are sirens and people grabbing me and asking me questions. _

_I hear someone say hospital and feel hands guiding me toward a car. _

_I turn and see a face but nothing registers and I start to feel dizzy again. The hands tighten on my arm and I close my eyes – for just a second – taking a breath and willing myself to fight this toxin. _

_It is just…the drug. _

_I will be fine. _

_I am fine. _

…_._

Gibbs approaches the two, standing among cop cars and an ambulance and crews from ZNN.

He cups a hand against Ziva's face. A beat passes before she moves dilated eyes toward him.

She is in shock, he knows. But he still asks, running a thumb down the side of her cheek.

"You ok, Ziva?"

Another beat passes before she responds, biting her lip momentarily. "I am fine."

"The ambulance is waiting.." Gibbs started, before she interrupted.

"The girls? He told me where…"

"We heard, Ziva. A rescue team is already at the harbor. You did good."

She nods.

He cocks his head toward the waiting vehicle. "Ambulance."

…..

_I do not always follow orders. Sometimes I bend the rules. _

_So when Gibbs says hospital I say Ducky. _

_A compromise. Like that time I ran back into the abandoned garage to diffuse a bomb. Gibbs did not know it was a compromise until after the fact, but I saved his evidence, no? _

_I can tell he is not pleased. But I tell them that it is just a drug and that he did_

_not hurt me_

_and that Ducky can draw blood for Abby to test. _

_But you forget how dark and cold the morgue can be at night. _

_I find it ironic that I sit here, on one of the steel slabs. I could very well be laying, chest broke open, organs measured and weighed. _

_Ducky had asked Tony to wait outside. I think I surprised both when I asked Tony to stay. _

_But you see, I knew Ducky would be limited in what probing questions he could ask with Tony present. _

_Though there is nothing to ask. _

_He did not hurt me. _

…_._

_Of the thousand things that could have gone wrong. _

_Something did. _

_Of the thousand endings to this game. _

_Someone saved her. _

_I don't know whether it was I or Gibbs or a stroke of luck. But she is here. _

_And I am silent because the weight of what happened is too heavy. The question of what being drugged, attacked and almost raped will do to her still unanswered. _

_Ducky draws blood and bandages a small cut on her forehead. He begins to probe her shoulder, arms, for signs of broken bones but she waves him off. I can tell the drug is already leaving her system. She is becoming obstinate and short and can walk without help, most of the time. _

_Just because you say it, Ziva – he did not hurt me – it doesn't make it true. _

_And when he is done, after he says, "You should go for x-ra.." and she cuts him off, we walk upstairs. The bullpen is dark and empty. _

_I ask her once, twice, three times for a drink and she finally agrees. One condition. Your place or mine._

_I open my mouth – hers, of course – but she answers for me. "Yours." _

_She makes me drop her off at her place, first. I ask her why and she is quiet when she answers. _

"_To shower. Change."_

_I feel physically sick and tighten my grip so hard on the steering wheel that if I wasn't so angry and numb it would hurt. _

…_._

_It is only when I am in my apartment. Alone. Only when I have thrown my clothes into the trash. When the water is running, so hot and hard that even I, for a moment, can pretend it did not happen. _

_Do I cry. _

_I still feel fuzzy and shaky and tired and sick from the drug. I try to pretend the tears are just water, but the truth is there is no one to see so what does it really matter? _

_I scrub my skin hard. Over and over and over. And when it is finally red and raw from the scrubbing and scalding heat, when it finally hurts more than what I feel inside, do I stop. _

_I do not know if Steward is dead or alive. I do not know if they got to the girls in time. _

_For tonight, I do not care. _

_What I care about, tonight? I tell myself that I need to feel someone touch me, someone inside me. That I need to prove that Steward did not damage me, render me weak and sniveling, sexually incapable. _

_It is mostly, yet another, front. _

_I really just want someone to hold me and tell me that it is ok. That I did the best I could. That they are glad I did not die. That they had my back, would never have let it happened. _

_I want. _

_Him. _

_I am tired of pretending. _

…..

A/N: So what did you all think? What do you want to see next?


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